


Emergency Popcorn

by Triangulum



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:37:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: "What's that?" Bucky asks before he can stop the words. He tends to do that around her. Blurt things out like he's a middle schooler stammering at his crush."What's what?" she asks, finishing wiping the rum off her hands.Bucky looks pointedly at her bag, which is still crinkling a bit when she moves. Realization hits her."Oh, that's my emergency popcorn," she says."Emergency popcorn," Bucky repeats flatly."Yep," she says, tugging the wrapped microwavable bag out of her purse to show him before dropping it back in, apparently content to leave it at that. Bucky, though...he has questions."You gotta give me more to go on than that, doll," he says.





	Emergency Popcorn

Bucky hates Stark's parties. He hates that he's supposed to show up dressed to the nines and make polite small talk with people he either doesn't know or doesn't like. Or both. He hates that he has to talk with the government big shots, the ones who could easily drag him to trial for the things he's done as the Winter Solider if he shows anything other than being happy and healthy and brainwash-free. He gets why it's important, but he hates it.

His small comfort is that he isn't the only one. Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster's lab manager, tends to stick to the outskirts of these things, too. At first, he'd thought she'd been uncomfortable schmoozing with millionaires, billionaires, and political hotshots, but no, she was just bored. Stark had banned her from any further political debates after she'd read a senator the riot act over his "antiquated, bullshit treatment of a woman's right to choose. Seriously, I rub elbows with two men born in the 1910s and they're more progressive than you, you dusty-ass dinosaur." 

JARVIS had pulled up the footage of it when Bucky had asked. He'd never seen her political science degree in action and he had to admit, it got him a little hot under the collar to watch the senator turn an alarming shade of red as she verbally eviscerated him.

Thanks to Stark's no-politicians-near-Darcy ban, she tends to stick to the edges of the parties, nursing her drink or chatting with other wallflowers. Lately though, she's taken to standing near him, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking animatedly. He doesn't always answer, but she doesn't seem to care. He's glad. He doesn't always have the right words to say what he wants, but he likes listening to her. 

Darcy isn't feeling chatty tonight, which is fine by Bucky. Her standing next to him is enough, especially since he doesn't think he'd be able to form many words if he tried talking to her. She looks phenomenal tonight, dark curls pulled back into an elaborate knot at the base of her skull, her blood red lips matching the tight dress that's clinging to her in the best way. She's in heels, which he knows she hates, and it cuts the height difference between them from nine inches down to about six. She's gorgeous (not that she isn't always) and it's making his brain short circuit. 

A waiter walks by a little too closely with a tray of drinks, apologizing as he bumps into Darcy and continues on his way. She teeters a bit in the heels but keeps upright thanks to his hand on her elbow. Her drink sloshes a bit and she sighs, setting it down on the table behind them so she can dig into her bag for one of the wet wipes he knows she carries. A plastic, crinkling sound that he can't identify comes from the purse as she rummaging.

"What's that?" Bucky asks before he can stop the words. He tends to do that around her, too. Blurt things out like he's a middle schooler stammering at his crush.

"What's what?" she asks, finishing wiping the rum off her hands.

Bucky looks pointedly at her bag, which is still crinkling a bit when she moves. Realization hits her.

"Oh, that's my emergency popcorn," she says.

"Emergency popcorn," Bucky repeats flatly.

"Yep," she says, tugging the wrapped microwavable bag out of her purse to show him before dropping it back in, apparently content to leave it at that. Bucky, though...he has questions.

"You gotta give me more to go on than that, doll," he says.

"I stuck it in my bag one morning before work because I was really craving popcorn but didn't particularly want popcorn for breakfast. I was going to heat it up when I got to work but then Jane blew Tony up and the day kind of got away from me," Darcy says with a shrug. "It chills in my bag now for whenever there's a popcorn emergency."

Not for the first time, Bucky has no idea what to say to her.

"What counts as a popcorn emergency?" Bucky asks.

"Any moment that could be greatly enhanced by popcorn," Darcy says. "So...lots of times, really."

Bucky snorts at that, shaking his head fondly. That's a common reaction he has to her. 

A song comes on that Bucky doesn't recognize, but it has Darcy instantly perking up. She looks at him with a little grin that looks just sinful.

"I don't suppose I can bribe you into a dance, Barnes?" she asks. 

"That depends on what you're offering," he says, falling into the routine of easy banter with her. 

"How about we take a little spin around the dance floor, you being seen all dance-y and smolderingly sexy should make the big wigs happy. Dancing with you would make me happy. Then we blow this popsicle stand and break into the emergency popcorn stash," Darcy says, corner of her mouth titled in a smirk. Bucky can see the nervousness in her eyes though, like she's expecting him to say no. Really, he doesn't think he's able to deny her much of anything.

"I don't care about making the generals happy," Bucky says. "I'm dancing with you because I want to."

Darcy's smile is dazzling.

Bucky takes her small purse from her, handing it off to a smirking Natasha as they pass her on their way to the dance floor. Darcy's small hand is wrapped in his as he gently pulls her forward. Bucky has a moment of nervousness (he hasn't danced since before Zola and he isn't sure he even remembers how) before muscle memory kicks in and he tugs Darcy to him, wrapping one hand in hers, the other resting on her waist. 

Bucky moves them effortlessly to the beat of the music, a song that reminds him a bit of the jazz he'd enjoyed when he was younger. He has a brief flash of an old memory, of holding another woman close like this before the war, swinging around the room together. Unlike usual, he doesn't bother trying to chase the memory down. He's very happy with the woman he has in his arms now, and doesn't feel any need to chase after the ghost of someone else.

They twirl across the floor, Darcy clutching him tightly until she starts getting a feel for it. He's seen her dance, but it was always solo, big gestures and exaggerated hip movements. She doesn't seem a hundred percent confident, but that's fine, Bucky doesn't mind leading her.

Darcy laughs a little self-consciously when she almost steps on his foot. "I'm sure glad you know what you're doing. I took a couple years of tap and that's it," she says.

"You're doing fine," he assures her, voice soft. It's true, even. She follows his lead well, catching on quickly. 

Darcy laughs, bright and clear as he dips her, her face shining and flushed when he tugs her back up. Bucky catches a glimpse of Steve's surprised face when they spin by, next to an amused Natasha, but he doesn't pay them attention. He does smirk when he sees the senator Darcy had dressed down glaring at them from his table. 

The senator also happened to be one of the more vocal proponents of Bucky being insane and unable to function in society. Seeing him look like he'd sucked on a lemon would make this whole night well worth it, if that hadn't already be accomplished by having Darcy close to him.

Darcy's slightly out of breath when the song ends, and he can feel the way her heart races against his chest. She's smiling though and takes his hand, leading him towards Steve and Natasha. As much as he'd love to dance with her more, he'd rather do it away from prying eyes next time, so he doesn't mind.

Natasha hands Darcy her purse, whispering something that makes Darcy blush and laugh, but Bucky doesn't catch it, too busy trying to decipher what the hell Steve is trying to say with his eyebrows. Darcy takes his hand again, stepping a bit away.

"So, I'd say Bucky's done his good deed for the day. And I haven't shouted at anyone tonight, not even the congressman's aide who kept staring at my tits, so I deserve like, all the rewards. We're out, have a good night, don't do anything I wouldn't do," Darcy says. 

Bucky frowns, trying to recall the face of the aide, but Darcy drags Bucky toward the exit (though they both know he lets her) and they slip from the ballroom. Stark had reserved quite a few hotel rooms upstairs from the ballroom in case anyone was too drunk or tired to make it back to the Avengers facility after the party. Darcy had taken shameless advantage, her own words, and said she was never one to say no to a stay in a five-star hotel. Bucky hadn't, knowing neither he nor Steve were even able to truly get drunk, so they head up to Darcy's room.

A brief memory surfaces, another faceless girl leading him to a hotel room, her coy smile, his grin, before he lets it slip away. He doesn't want to linger on it, to compare Darcy to some woman he doesn't even remember from a completely different situation and context. He just follows her to her room, plucking the key card from her hand and she doesn't argue, used to him doing quick sweeps of rooms.

When he's sure they're alone, she bounces in, groaning happily as she kicks her heels off, dropping a good three inches of height. He frowns at the way she's stepping gingerly, cataloging where on her feet and ankles he's sure she's sore.

"You have no idea how happy I am to be out of those shoes. I'd rather be short, I don't care if it's not en vogue or whatever," she says. She pulls the packet of popcorn out of her bag and walks by Bucky, headed to the little kitchen to stick the popcorn in the microwave. 

"You're not too short," Bucky says, leaning against the counter next to her. "Perfect height to do this." He props his elbow up on the top of her head, his chin in his hand. 

It startles a bright laugh out of Darcy and she ducks down, curling into his side. His arm automatically settles around her shoulders, holding her close. This is muscle memory too, both from women from his past and from all the time he spends with Darcy, one of the few people who aren't shy about touching him. She tends to tuck herself against his side when they're watching movies, when they're eating, when they're just walking down the street. 

"So, scale of one to ten, one being 'meh' and ten being 'someone just killed puppies in front of me', how bad was tonight?" she asks. 

Bucky hums, fingers brushing the bare skin of her arm. "Started at an eight," he says. "Then I danced with a pretty dame who offered me popcorn, so it's getting significantly better."

"Bucky Barnes, you charmer," Darcy says with a laugh, pulling away to pull the popcorn out of the microwave. She dumps it in two bowls she finds in the kitchen cupboards. She hands one to him and crawls onto the king bed, kicking off a hoodie and a shoe box to make room for him to sit next to her. 

Bucky settles himself next to her, legs stretched in front of him, back to the headboard. He deliberately sits between her and the door, the gun he'd stashed in her room earlier in easy reach, taped under the nightstand. That gives him a bit of a pause as Darcy picks up the remote, flipping through stations with one hand, tossing popcorn into her mouth with the other.

She knows his habits almost as well as he knows hers, accommodates him without even thinking about it. She sits on the left side of the bed, even though she prefers the right, because she knows he wants to be between her and the door if something happens. If they're out, she'll sit with her back to the room so he can have the seat against the wall, giving him the best vantage point. She knows to flip past the true crime shows and settle on Men in Black (he'd had a horrible flashback when Barton was watching an episode about a governor and her husband who'd been murdered, and when he'd seen their faces, he'd known without a shadow of a doubt that he was the one who'd killed them).

She does it so effortlessly, without thought or complaint, like it's second nature, that he doesn't feel like he's being handled or managed like he does with some of the others (Steve). She treats his needs like she does to the scientists in her care; easily, without judgement, and with all the help she can. He's seen her replace Jane's empty coffee cup with a full, hot mug when she hadn't even noticed it was empty. She knows immediately where to look for Bruce's notes when he's frantic that he's misplaced them. She maneuvers the difficult Tony Stark into compliance with raunchy jokes and a stern hand. 

Once she'd met the rest of Avengers, she'd added them to her basket of caring without a thought. She makes the Russian desserts Natasha will never admit to craving. She takes Thor and Steve to new restaurants, introducing them to all New York has to offer. Clint gets an outlet for his need for some normalcy, a friend that isn't enhanced or a spy or a superhero (and they're close as hell for it. Bucky knows there isn't much Clint wouldn't do for Darcy.). When Bucky arrived, she'd taken him as-is, folding him in with the rest of them as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Do you think there are real life Men In Black? Because that would be some bullshit," Darcy says.

"What?" Bucky asks.

"Alien wranglers!" Darcy saying, gesturing to the screen where Tommy Lee Jones just blew up an alien in the desert. "Like is there another secret agency out there that's all about aliens? Are they seriously sucking at their jobs and you guys are just cleaning up their messes all the time?"

"I've met one," Bucky says seriously. 

"A what?" Darcy asks, eyes wide and startled. "A man in black?" Bucky nods solemnly, keeping his face as blank as possible as Darcy stares at him, then squints, realizing he's fucking with her. "Oh my god, you absolutely troll, James Barnes!" 

Darcy smacks his shoulder with a grin, laughing in outrage. Bucky laughs with her, lifting his arm out of punching distance and wrapping it around her shoulder. She's snickering, tucked into his side when he kisses the top of her head. He didn't mean to, it isn't something he's done before. It was just an automatic thing. She stills a bit and he tenses, afraid she's going to push him away, that he's crossed a boundary, but a second later she just relaxes completely against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Thanks for dancing with me tonight," she says softly. 

"Anytime, doll," Bucky says, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of her arm. 

"Even if I'm in my ratty pajamas playing ZZ Ward?" she teases.

Bucky thinks of her sleepily stumbling into the common kitchen that morning, wearing an oversized sweatshirt, short shorts, and wool socks. Her hair had been piled into a mess bun and she'd had pillow creases on her cheek. She smiled at him as she'd poured herself coffee, and he'd thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Especially then," he says. She smiles, turning her face into his shoulder to hide the blush he loves. "Let's wait for your feet to recover from those high heels though, yeah?"

"Barnes, you're speaking my language."

**Author's Note:**

> This is all because I have a packet of popcorn that's been chilling in my bag for like three months. Totally forgot it was there.
> 
> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com) (thought it's mostly Teen Wolf stuff tbh).


End file.
